


unyielding cycle

by JulyB96



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan, The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: Gen, Other, The Burning Maze—Spoilers, We're Really In This Folks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-02 11:05:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14543358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulyB96/pseuds/JulyB96
Summary: Mt. Othrys was desolate. Crumbled ruins, dust still filtering through the air from the war, like it refused to leave. It’s loyalty, even only as a particle, to strong to keep it from being swept away across the waves.Loyalty—the word meant nothing to her now..Sometimes when your sibling dies there's nothing left to do but snap.





	1. Thalia

    Mt. Othrys was desolate. Crumbled ruins, dust still filtering through the air from the war, like it refused to leave. It’s loyalty, even only as a particle, to strong to keep it from being swept away across the waves.

    Loyalty—the word meant nothing to her now.

    The caw of a bird made her head snap high, scan the sky from her spot crouched behind a jagged set of rocks. It was only a crow. She dropped her head back down, breath only slightly shaky. She thumbed the golden arrow in her quiver again, then pulled it out to cradle in her palms. It was elegant, a faint shimmer surrounding it, gleaming proudly; an innocent bystander in the process. A single arrow stolen from her Lady Arte—no, no longer her lady. She dragged a finger over it’s point, but didn’t feel a thing.

    Thalia didn’t feel much anymore.

    The news had been given to her gently, like she was a newborn bluebird they had to pick up off the earthen floor; steady, bated breath, barely touching her. It didn’t work, it felt as if she’d dropped a thousand feet, hit concrete with a sudden smack. Her sternum had shattered, it’s tiny fragments piercing her heart in the aftermath. Night after night, crying, bathing in the creek, rubbing her skin raw, until it tingled, until it turned numb.  _ She _ was numb and now she couldn’t feel a thing, eyes always rimmed red, always blue. Blue eyes, his eyes. 

_ Why. _

    She took a deep breath, bit the arrow between her teeth to free her hands, which pushed her hair back into a ponytail, tight. She didn’t have to bother with the circlet, it was no longer there.

    Thalia knew why. There was no answer to why, it just  _ was. _ This is how it was, god’s prospered and half-bloods died and the world kept spinning even though she was sure her blood had run stagnant. This was the way, that’s what she was told, that’s what Luke was told, that’s what they were told. And then she died, and then he died, and now Jason’s dead. She could barely think his name. Her chest constricted, she had to lean against the rocks for support.

_ Was _ no longer. Past tense. Dead and gone, just like him. 

    Luke, she thought, I’m going to finish what you started.

    The universe didn’t stop for her as she stood, adrenaline infecting her, clearing her head. No one flew down from the heavens to tackle her down as she slung her bow off her shoulder. Perhaps this was something they couldn’t interfere with, perhaps they couldn’t stop her, just like they couldn’t stop him from dying. That brought her some satisfaction; let them watch her doom the world, their world. She notched the arrow and stepped out from behind the rocks, revealing herself to the only person left on that broken, ruined, desolate mountain.

    Atlas—across the clearing, kneeling underneath the weight of the sky, barely making a sound—looked up at her. The air crackled between them, growing denser. Here, at the edge of the sky, the air knew. It was waiting. His eyes were silver, driving straight through her. He remembered her and he must have known, must have seen the poison in her eyes as she readied her bow, because he laughed.

    “Do it, sweetheart.”

    The golden arrow sat idly against her bow. Then it flew, shimmered as the light caught it, and pierced Atlas through the heart. He grunted and let out a harsh breath through his nose, then his entire body began to shake. Thalia watched his chest rise once, twice, thrice, and then he gave out, body falling slack to the side and dropping to the ground with a hollow thump.

    The sky hit the earth with him.

    It cracked the stone—a groan emanated from the Earth—and expanded outwards, enveloping the entire mountain and Thalia along with it. She braced herself against the winds, throwing her arms up to protect herself from debris that flew back and forth. Gradually, the groan withered away and the winds died down, and as the disrupted dust cleared, she saw him. Standing tall, much taller than any of the rest of the, clothed in ancient Greek regalia, hair pure cloud white. The resemblance was clear, strong jaw, body of a fighter, hands that looked like they could crush the heavens.

    For the first time in weeks, Thalia grinned.

    All other players had been expended. There was only one left, and she had him.

    He finally looked at her, quizzically, sternly, and she got a good look at his eyes. They were dark blue. No irises, no white, just dark blue speckled with stars. Looking at them should have scared her, but she controlled herself, cleared her throat. “Lord Ouranos.”

    “Do you have any idea what you’ve done. . .”

    “You speak—”

    “Everything.”

    “My name is—”

    “I know who you are,” He walked closer to her. Wherever he stepped, the stone would crack. “It’s written in your eyes, child. They show me much more than a color. And being who you are, I’m interested in why you just did this.” He gestured to himself, then back to Atlas. The sky saw everything, he already knew, but Thalia was used to games like this.

    “I want them to  _ suffer _ ,” She said.  

    Ouranos smiled and it was there, clear as day. The inheritance, the twinkle of the eye, the upturned lip, but this was different. Different than all the rest. Thunder rumbled from the sky, but it was far away, in the distance, like an echo. Like it was afraid. “So be it.”


	2. Percy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He made the mistake of glancing down at Caligula again.  
> His vision tunneled.
> 
> .  
> small warning, slight gore in this chapter !!

    Somewhere, unbeknownst to him, the fates were fighting over his strand of yarn and in the process, pulled the strings apart.

    The arena, from the Labyrinth, was much like he remembered it. Chains hanging from the ceiling. The narrow, stone bleachers cascading high into the darkness. It was dusty, abandoned. Cobwebs covered the throne Antaeus once sat in. Footprints trailed him as he walked down to the overhang and gripped the railing. Old, abused armor was strewn around the pit, covered in dirt. Not a single soul was there; Percy was alone.

    He should have been concerned.

    Moments ago he’d been sitting on the beach, soaking in the darkness of the night, letting it swallow him up.

    But he knew better.

    At the other end of the ring, a rushing started—the sound of air circling. It grew loud, the wind materializing in the form of a solid, gray cyclone. Dust particles picked up and he raised a hand to keep his vision clear. Too soon, the wind dispersed and in its place, stood someone.

    Percy knew not to let the word man cross his mind, nor the word god, because he’d seen enough of both and this  _ someone _ was neither. He was tall, with a strong, muscled physique, dressed in a muted, silver armor, with a cloak attached; the fabric settled behind him. White hair fell just beneath his shoulders and his eyes. . .he simply had none. A smile sat on his face, one that told Percy that the windy theatrics and distance between them was to appear less threatening. Give him time to react. Keep the tension to a minimum. This would be a conversation.

    Percy wasn’t feeling chatty.

    But then Thalia—armored in black, quiver full and bow readied—stepped out from behind him and everything made sense.

    “Percy,” She started.

    “ _ Wow _ ,” Percy cut her off. “You know, I must be the luckiest fucking hero in history. I’ve met every single one of you, now. Let me go get my checklist, it’ll be the first time in my life I’ve gotten one-hundred percent on something.” Thalia’s brow furrowed and she sneered.

    “Listen—” She tried again, but Ouranos held up his hand. 

    “Lower the bow,” He said, then gestured to the space in front of the throne. Percy understood; meet in the middle. They took the first step simultaneously. “Perseus—”

    “Percy,” His name hissed out between clenched teeth.

    “Percy,” Ouranos nodded as he walked. “I don’t think either of us,” he gestured between him and Thalia, “is deserving of this anger.” Percy didn’t bother with niceties. He could barely keep the formalities at bay, using every ounce of self-control to keep Riptide in his pocket.

    “I was at camp,  _ minding my own business _ . Why’d you bring me here?”

    “You were under the sky. It wasn’t difficult.”

    “Not how,  _ why _ .” They stopped then, only a few feet apart. Closer now, Percy noticed that Ouranos’ did, in fact, have eyes. Two blue orbs with white specks; they were cold. Thalia shouldered her bow and took a step even closer.

    “You know why. Jason is dead,” Her voice shook. Whether it was from anger or pain, he couldn’t tell. “They didn’t help. And now he’s gone.” Percy lowered his eyes, unable to bear the sight of her. Powerful and broken, a traitor and not the least bit regretful. If he stared, it would’ve been like looking in a mirror. Almost. “Aren’t you upset? He was my brother, he was your friend, he was  _ good _ .”

    “Of course, I’m upset, Thalia!” His shout echoed around the chamber, outburst so loud he felt the veins in his throat clench; it silenced the girl in front of him. A deep, labored breath rattled through his core. The air around them felt heavy. A small, half-blood made rainstorm only one sentence away, but it never came. He wanted to reach out, slip his fingers about the skin of her wrist and pull her into a hug, but neither moved.

    “Are you angry?” Ouranos asked. Percy met his gaze.

    “More so than anyone has ever been.”

    That earned a chuckle from the primordial. He lifted his hands, from where they’d hung listlessly at his sides, and cracked the knuckles. “Magnificent. I’ve witnessed many angry men over time. Been rather angry myself. The best thing to do with that anger,” he snapped his fingers and a figure materialized out of thin air, then dropped twenty feet into the pit. “Is to use it.”

    Percy gripped the railing and peered down to find Caligula, bruised, beaten, and bloodied, but breathing. He scrambled up, a coughing, hacking mess, and searched for his perpetrators. When he found them, his face twisted up in anger, but the rest of him froze. For the briefest moment, Percy saw fear muddle his features. He turned to Thalia, “You haven’t killed him.”

    Her eyes narrowed, “I want more than just the man that killed him.”

    “She suggested I bring him to you,” Ouranos said. “A gift.” 

    “In exchange for what?” Percy asked. A horrible churning started in his gut, demigod senses on the brink of overload. The false sense of diplomacy was wasted. He could see it in Ouranos’ face, in the melodic hollowness of his voice; it was too familiar. Percy had gotten to close to them all, knew the signs, figured out their ticks. He was an expert in Greek immortal family bullshit. Ouranos could tell. The smile he’d been upholding slipped away, morphing into a set jaw and neutral frown.

    “For nothing, Perseus. I’m offering you revenge. You’ve given me enough, cast each of my sons back to Tartarus. I watched it all and see no reason why you should not be repaid.” Ouranos gestured to Thalia. “She wants the Olympians gone. You want Caligula dead, by your own hand.”

    “I don—”

    “I am the sky. I see everything. Your actions, your unspoken words. Do not lie to me.” A violence had overtaken Percy, the truth infecting him like a drug, making his body shake. It was sudden and inescapable. Some small, tiny voice cried from the very depths of his consciousness, telling him to leave. Thalia backed away from him; later he’d realize it was because the chamber had been rattling from his efforts.

    He made the mistake of glancing down at Caligula again.

    His vision tunneled.

    “Give him a spear,” Percy could hear himself say. It didn’t sound like him. The last thing he registered was jumping down into the pit. He could feel the shock in his legs and dirt on his palms as he landed. Riptide appeared, a welcome weight, in his hand. That violence swallowed him whole, much like the night would have if he’d remained on the beach. The world swirled to black, red flashes painting themselves across his vision, and he was gone.

.

    Percy surfaced with striking clarity and found himself bent over Caligula’s kneeling body, with Riptide shoved down his throat, right to the hilt. It wasn’t done with precision though, so the sword’s gleaming tip poked out of the god’s lower torso. Ichor poured down him in waves and the sound’s of Caligula’s guttural choking reached Percy just before the light faded from his eyes, which were wide and bright and filled with fear. 

    Percy saw his own snarling image reflected as those eyes grew glassy.

    He wrenched the sword free of its gory confines; ichor splattered across his t-shirt. Not that it mattered, he was already covered with it. A whistle sounded out and he craned his head up, a languorous feel seeping into his muscles.

    Thalia and Ouranos were up against the railing; him, standing; her, leaning on her elbows. Both kept a neutral face, though Thalia’s eyes—big, excited—betrayed her. It felt as if they’d been like that for a while.

    “Well?” She asked after the silence had grown uncomfortable.

    A thousand thoughts raced through his head, all clashing together; two opposing forces. Muddled memories and faces and promises fought for his full attention and he was trapped there, standing on the brink. There was more to this than revenge, there was an  _ after _ . There would be bloodshed and rebellion. A king and prisoners, a victory and a loss.

    He had to say no.

    Caligula’s ichor traveled in a steady stream past his foot and the name hit him again.

_ Jason. _ Jason, Jason, Jason. Stuck on a sinking ship with ten holes in his chest and a future he would never fulfill. The blinding smile and deafening laughter, the slight electric vibration that passed from his fingertips every time they hugged. Jason, who was better than him.

    Because Jason wouldn’t do this.

    But that didn’t matter.

_ Don’t let it happen again. _

    Percy carried his eyes from Thalia over to Ouranos and nodded. 

    The fates wailed out in unison, throwing the whole spool into the pyre, but it was too late. Their most valuable creation, tangled and frayed, was lost to them. 

    Ouranos watched Thalia pull Percy from the pit, the stars in his eyes growing brighter all the while. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chucklesimindanger.jpg
> 
> updating after almost a year? bc she finally read the burning maze? you got that right. does anyone want to guess which demigod will be next? thank you for reading xxx
> 
> comments and kudos are highly appreciated

**Author's Note:**

> kermitsittinginashowerandscreaming.jpeg
> 
> i could tell you that it's all going to be okay, but that would be a lie. heavily considering turning this into a few short drabbles, so let's see what happens lmao. thank you for reading xxx
> 
> comments and kudos are highly appreciated and treasured


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